Anh "Asian Try-Hard" T.'s Profile

Dresses are awesome for the following reasons:

1) No rummaging through my closet for a complimentary top/bottom
2) My cuteness factor increases by 3
3) Easy access for bathrooms and boyfriends...and even better, boyfriends in bathrooms.

BCBG happens to make some of my favorite dresses, so when I heard about their oh-so-affordable outlet in LA, I couldn't help but to head straight there.

The building's black and white striped exterior is really hard to miss. Inside is a shopping girl's soaking wet dream. All kinds of amazing dresses--long and short, big and small, casual and formal, light and dark--filled the store, all up to 70% off! And even when your dress costs only $40, the sales people are still super friendly and helpful.

A total score.

Seeing reviews from some of my favorite yelpers, I wanted to love this place enough to book it for my birthday venue. Luckily, I decided to check it out for happy hour first before making that final leap.

Happy hour deals are great; $5-6 drinks and appetizers are nothing to scoff at. I loved the tuna tartare and my lamb sliders, and my friend's eggrolls also looked good. The flavored mojitos were super tasty, and martinis were potent. The boys loved the brews (and the random hoes).

Unfortunately, the ambiance was quite dull and the service was more than lacking. Although our waitress was cute and nice at first, she had a tendency to disappear whenever we needed to order more drinks. And if the other waitresses aren't assigned to your section, they won't even give your flailing arms a second glance. My friend even tried walking around the whole restaurant to find her.

Some friends came later in the evening and opened a new tab with our waitress. All a sudden, she became overly attentive and asked if we wanted to order something else or more importantly, close our tab. She basically interruped our conversation every TEN MINUTES (I kid you not) and each time, it became more awkward. Finally, at 9pm, she pointedly asked us to close our tab and open it with another bartender, because she was "already supposed to be off." So that's suddenly our fault?

Had I been the one to flash the cash, her tip would have gone missing.

I don't know why the padres insist on eating at Chinese cafes. It is probably the inherently cheap Chinese blood that runs through their veins but unfortunately, the same blood seems to have a high level of the Complaint Gene.

Despite my attempts to woo and entice them to choose a higher quality establishment (I'll pay!!!), my dad wanted to check out the "new restaurant at the car store," which meant that he wanted to eat at the car-dealership-turned-uninspired-cafe. Although the interior of the office-turned-dining-area was modern-ish with a stainless steel facade, the overhead fans made it clear that the the restaurant had once been a failed shabu shabu joint.

When we asked the waiter for his recommendations, he came up with a blank. Ummm...not a good sign. So we blindly went with an order of the Tibet-style short ribs and steak, hainam chicken, tomato risotto, and the most expensive thing on the menu, abalone hot pot with a side of shrimp.

My order of simple hainam chicken was probably the winner of the night, although according to my mother, she makes it better (she really does). The ribs were greasy and gristly, and the steak was completely dry. The giant bowl of risotto tasted like a creamier version of ketchup-rice I make when I run out of food at home. The most disappointing meal was the abalone hot pot, which comprised of a small cauldron of boiling ginseng flavored broth, two raw abalone shells, and 4 frozen shrimp with heads attached. When cooked, the abalone withered down to the size of my pinky nail.

Of course, the bill was fairly low for our family of five, at about $70 including drinks. But the whole time, we had to hear "this no good, I make better at home!" as my sister listlessly stirs her ketchup risotto and my brother glares in typical emo fashion across the table. And though I knew it was true, I couldn't help but to interject with "I told you!" Ahhh...family dynamics really never change.

June 4th was National Donut Day. So to celebrate, I bought a couple of donuts for me and the Colombian. I forgot how cheap and classic donuts really are.

Although it was in later in the evening, my donut was still soft and sweet...much like my belly. But it was good. Damn good. And so was the Colombian.

After signing up on http://sugardaddie.com/ and deleting hundreds of pictures of graying pubes from my inbox, I decide to go local (sort of). Picking up some babes on the way, we snag a free parking spot across the street from the Viceroy. Silly $16 valet, I scoff at you!

The pool area was too cold for our skanky attire, but we were lucky enough to grab some plush chairs and sofas in the lounge. Within minutes, we are surrounded by greasy Italians, some with hair and others, not so much. They flash their shiny watches and go on about how cool it is to be short and international...blah blah blah...but I could smell small penises a mile away. Seeing no luck in their futures, they eventually disappear and another random group of men come in for the kill. But instead of killing, they merely swat at us with their closet homosexuality. Awkward.

On a more serious note, the hotel is absolutely beautiful and the cabanas are super swanky (requiring at least $300 tab). Martinis are about $13 a glass, and the bartender pours with a heavy hand. Despite the male weirdos we encountered, the place was brimming with beautiful women and enviable purses. A good place if you're under 35 and looking for a rich old daddy. I, on the other hand, prefer poor but ridiculously handsome young daddies. :)

This place is quick...maybe a little too quick? A good thing if you're on the run but not so cool if you're trying to relax and have a chat with your girlfriends. It's like a German disco; walk in and within ten minutes, you've got a shiny new STD! But instead of an STD, you get fuschia colored nails...yay.

This is where the hasty service got me in trouble: the poor slave boy who worked on my toes had messed up a nail while forcing on my sandal. When he rushed to fix it, he ended up using a different color. I didn't notice my unusually dark toe until I was at home so I had to redo them myself. Yes, I'm lame for not catching it right away but my slants are only so wide. Such a bad bad boy needs a bad bad beating. But if he likes it, does it defeat its purpose?

An extra star goes to the bargain-priced service. A spa pedicure and callus removal for a mere 20 spot was definitely worth it, assuming they don't always screw up.

My friend couldn't shut up about this place, about how the food was so amazing and comparable to that little boot-shaped country on the other side of our planet. To finally shut him up, we forced him to fanagle some reservations for our hungry group of 6. I told him if the place was no good, I'd eat his first born.

At first, it was awkward to pull up to a deserted valet. Like an inept trust fund baby, I had no idea who was going to park my car. Finally after about 2 minutes, a lady ran up to snatch my keys. Funny how willing we are to give up months of car payments to someone who wears a red vest.

The restaurant was fairly small and busy, but our exceptional staff was ready for us. We were provided a complimentary tuna appy with bread and crackers, which was a lovely surprise. Protein in my mouth, anytime! We also ordered the fresh octopus salad and artichoke casserole. Though it was not your typical casserole, the hearts melted in your mouth like a buttery fantasy. The octopus was also special in that it wasn't chewy and tough, but rather light and soft.

Although I am not a huge pasta person, I went with the highly acclaimed lasagna verde. It took all my willpower to resist scooping the last bite into my purse for later. The friend's wifey was a regular and had the mixed seafood ragu but instead of risotto, ordered taglionitini (or something like that) which was strangely similar to ramen noodles. Being a try hard, I was impressed. The most special dish at our table was the whole branzino, a delicate fish completely caked in sea salt, which is removed as part of the special cart service. I only had one delicious bite but am now a better person for it.

Overall, it was a fantastic experience and well worth the extra dollars. The service was spot on and the owner even came by to exchange a friendly word with our table. Supposedly, we saw a couple of pseudo-celebs but I still don't know who they are. If I did, I'd probably try to make out with them and things would just get awkward anyway.

So another baby lives. This time.

Almost a year and half has passed since my original review, and I'm still in love with this place. If possible, I even love Ginger more every time I see her. She is not only the friendliest gal on the planet, but I don't think I can trust my curlies with anyone else.

Oh wait, did I gross you out? Deal.

- "Who orders a sandwich at a hot wing restaurant?"
- "Someone who prefers to avoid a burning anus."

The Famished Five decided to go family style with 75 hot wings and sides. The onion rings were oily but didn't stop us for ordering seconds and thirds. Despite some complaints of unnecessary vegetables at the table, the thick spears of fried zucchini were my favorite. Sadly, the buffalo potato chips were nothing short of bland and boring. An order of true buffalo chips would at least have been more interesting (though I'd probably have pass on a taste test).

Our wings were smothered in all its buffalo-style glory and by the looks of our platter, everyone preferred the regular hot wings over the spicy barbecue. Despite attempts to watch my caloric intake, I walked out with orange fingers and covered in ranch sauce. But maybe it wasn't just ranch.

Turns out the spicy chicken sandwich is a lot spicier than the wings. Burning Anus Fail.

After bombing a midterm, I decided that I needed some sashimi. Taking a friend's recommendation, the school BFF and I decided to come here. Looking at the rundown exterior of the plaza, we were pleasantly surprised by the modern interior. I noticed that they had omakase, which the waitress quoted to be $47 for that day, but I really wanted some chirashi. Unfortunately, they only serve nigiri and some special hand rolls.

We ordered various fish (albacore, salmon, scallop, yellowtail, barracuda, and eel), but only the albacore really stood out. The blue crab roll and stuffed squid specials are definitely overrated. The rice is warm and slightly sweet, which I didn't mind. Surprisingly, I also didn't mind the wasabi. Normally, I absolutely hate wasabi but theirs was milder and I didn't hate it as much.

Their selection of cold sakes were uber expensive, so I settled for a less pricey fizzy version. It was more like a dessert drink; it was much too sweet to have with dinner. In the end, we still paid about $45 a person and I couldn't help but be annoyed by the waitress constantly hovering over us. IMHO, not really worth it. In hindsight, looks like lunch would have been a better deal.

Look at me, being useful and shit.